


Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion

by whoknows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, kitten hybrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps.</p>
<p>He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.</p>
<p>With the exception of Liam’s stupid, broad shouldered, entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this was originally posted to my tumblr. It's become long enough to be its own story now, so if it seems familiar that's probably why. There's a new part at the end if you'd like to skip to it, but with this it's all wrapped up. Enjoy!

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps.

He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.

With the exception of Liam’s stupid, broad shouldered, entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him.

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Louis is twenty-one years old, well over the legal drinking age. He doesn’t need to be treated like a child by some over-grown toddler. So what if the beer hadn’t been his in the first place. Everyone knows that it’s only polite to provide for everyone when bringing drinks over to someone else’s house.

The stupid hipster is here now, sitting with his feet propped up on Louis’ coffee table, probably getting it all scuffed and dirty. Louis scowls in his direction from the kitchen, where he is absolutely not hiding, thank you very much, and inches his fingers out to snag Harry’s bag from where it’s sitting on the countertop, pulling it slowly towards him.

It slides along silently. Louis keeps one eye on the living room, making sure neither Harry or Liam are going to turn around and see him, and then, once the bag is close enough, scoops it up and ducks down behind the counter, settling his bum on the cold tile. He’s hidden from view and the others are busy watching American football - as if that’s even a real sport - so now is the perfect time to go through Harry’s things.

By which he means mess with Harry’s things.

The inside of Harry’s messenger bag is pretty boring - there’s a couple textbooks, a notebook, some pens, a water bottle. A calculator, which Louis wrinkles his nose at, because maths, and his phone.

Ooh. His phone.

Who’s stupid enough to leave their phone in their bag with Louis around, honestly. It’s like he’s asking for Louis to do evil things to it.

Louis is in the middle of changing all the contacts in Harry’s phone to a synonym of _DICK_ , having already changed his background photo and hidden all of his music, when he’s gripped by the back of his neck and hauled to his feet. He yelps, things sliding off his lap and onto the floor and nearly loses his grip on the phone.

“What are you doing?” Harry demands, voice deep and gritty as he plucks his phone out of Louis’ hand, holding him high enough Louis has to stand on his tiptoes to avoid dangling.

“Nothing,” Louis huffs out, squirming in Harry’s grip, trying to find a way out.

“Bad kitty,” Harry murmurs, setting Louis down on the ground and swatting him on the arse. “Going through my things without permission.”

Louis’ face burns, heat spreads through his belly, his veins. He makes an inarticulate sound of rage and rips himself out of Harry’s hands, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

 

Sitting in his room calmly lasts all of five minutes. There’s a weird shaky feeling in his belly that Louis can’t shake, hot and squirmy, tension in all of his limbs. Where does Harry get off, thinking he can just pick Louis up like that and touch his bum and call him _bad kitty_.

Louis is a bad kitty. He’s still affronted by Harry saying it. And he’s not the type of person who lets their affrontation go unsaid.

He storms back into the living room and stands between Harry and the telly with his hands on his hips. “You have _no right_ to treat me like that,” he says loudly, drawing Harry’s attention.

Harry slouches back farther into the sofa and tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Like what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Like a kitten? Sorry to be the one to break it to you, sweetheart, but you _are_ a kitten.”

Louis makes another inarticulate sound of rage. Before he can form words, Harry’s sitting up, drawing his hands out of his pocket, and pulling Louis right into his lap. “C’mere, kitten. Know all you want is to be cuddled. Shouldn’t give in to you when you’ve been nothing but a bad kitty all day but I’m weak, what can I say.”

Harry’s lap is warm and the perfect size for a lazy afternoon of telly watching and snacks. “Liam,” Louis says weakly, batting one hand in Liam’s general direction. “Liam, save me.”

“Nah, mate, you’ve been a right nuisance all day,” Liam says, amused, turning the volume up on the telly. Louis pouts and is about to jump out of Harry’s arms by himself, except - 

Except Harry starts petting him absently, one hand stroking Louis’ belly underneath his shirt all warm and lovely. Louis slumps right back into Harry’s chest without meaning to. “There you go, kitty,” Harry murmurs, wrapping his other hand around Louis’ thigh. “Just be nice and quiet for me while we finish watching the game and afterwards I’ll give you a nice little treat.”

Louis’ mouth waters thinking about what the treat could be. That’s the only reason he stays. The only reason, he swears.

 

Nothing happens that day. Louis does stay nice and quiet while they finish watching the game, but by the end of it Harry’s gone all sleep soft and warm underneath him, hand resting heavily on the bare skin of Louis’ belly under his shirt. He stopped petting about half an hour ago, and the only reason Louis has even stayed is because Harry smells nice, all warm cologne and heat. He makes a good pillow, still and comfy.

Once the game is over, Harry stirs. Presses a kiss to the back of Louis’ head and gives his belly one last rub. “I’m gonna go, kitty,” he murmurs, voice still deep and gravelly. “Don’t let Liam sleep on the couch all night, alright?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, hands big and strong under Louis’ thighs as he deposits Louis onto the cushion beside him. Gathers his things and nudges Liam in goodbye, and then he leaves.

Good. Louis didn’t want to hang out with him any more anyway.

 

A couple of days later, Liam and Harry are hanging out again. Louis watches them with narrowed eyes from the kitchen, clutching onto the cup of tea between his hands. They’re playing some dumb card game Louis doesn’t have the attention span to figure out the rules of, and they’ve been ignoring Louis for the past twenty minutes.

Louis doesn’t take well to being ignored. He demands attention and he’s used to getting it, used to being spoiled by the people who love him. He’s not pouting about it just because no one’s paying attention to him right now, though. No, he’s _planning_.

What exactly he’s planning he’s not sure yet. Mayhem and destruction, that’s all he knows.

Before he can cement any details, or finish his rapidly cooling tea, Harry looks over at him, dumb grin breaking out across his face. “C’mere, kitty,” he calls, patting the space beside him.

Louis scowls at him, but he abandons the tea and takes the space, bringing his legs up underneath him on the couch and leaning across Harry’s lap, trying to see his cards.

“He has an ace of spades and four twos,” he informs Liam, sprawling himself out comfortably. This is Louis’ couch and he gets to sit however he wants on it. It literally has Louis’ name on it, scrawled on the underside because Liam took a break while putting it together and Louis didn’t have anything better to do and a permanent marker at his disposal.

“Bad kitty,” Harry says, pinching at the back of Louis’ neck. He doesn’t sound displeased, exactly, but he does lay his cards down and then drop both his hands onto Louis’ shoulders, kneading firmly.

Louis hisses and arches up into it, going boneless in a way he didn’t see coming. For a minute, he can’t clear his brain enough to form words, body foggy and heat filled.

“Wanna watch a film, kitty?” Harry asks, but he’s already picking up the remote and flipping the telly on, almost ignoring Liam entirely. Louis isn’t sure what to do with that information, so he just ignores it, watching the telly with drooping eyes. Harry settles on a film so old it’s black and white, something Louis’ never seen before and doesn’t really have any interest in watching.

He doesn’t complain. For some reason, he doesn’t complain, lying half across the lap of his most hated of Liam’s hipster friends, getting a back massage he never asked for.

It’s weird. It’s so weird Louis barely even notices when Liam gets up and leaves the room, never comes back. Probably he says something along the way but Louis is only paying attention to one thing right now, and that’s the feeling of Harry’s hands pressing against his back with the perfect amount of pressure.

Sleep kind of seems like an inevitability. It’s warm in the room, not hot, and Louis has always slept better with someone touching him, so it’s only natural that he drifts off a bit. Doesn’t actually fall asleep, because that would be weird, right, that would be weird, but he drifts.

Harry must think he has, though, because he doesn’t even wait for the movie to be over before he’s picking Louis up as though he weighs no more than a feather, no hint of strain in his arms as he carries Louis down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Louis’ breath nearly catches in his throat. Resolutely, he keeps his eyes closed, wondering how far this is going to go. Whether he’s finally going to get that treat Harry promised him.

Instead he just gets placed gently on his unmade bed. Nothing else happens other than Harry tugging one of the blankets up over his shoulders.

Louis frowns.

“Are you dumb?” he demands, sitting up suddenly and knocking their heads together. It’s painful, enough so that Louis yelps and brings a hand up to rub at the sting.

“Shit, Lou,” Harry curses, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed as he rubs at his own head. It must have hurt him more than it hurt Louis, what with his soft stupid little hipster head and all.

_Lou_ , though. Harry doesn’t - he doesn’t call Louis that, usually. Normally it’s only _kitty_ or _Louis_ or, when he’s had a bit to drink, _kitten_.

The heat in Louis’ belly at the nickname eggs him on. He pushes Harry back, until there’s space to clamber into his lap, teetering dangerously at the edge of the bed.

Automatically, Harry’s hands come around to grip at Louis’ waist, steady him. He looks confused.

“You said you would give me a treat,” Louis says, more incensed the more he thinks about it.

Harry looks even more confused. “You _promised_ ,” Louis tacks on.

Understanding dawns. “I did promise,” Harry agrees solemnly. “What do you want as your treat? A nice cuddle? Lunch? Cup of tea? Catnip?”

Louis scowls at him even harder. “I’m going to go tell Liam you tried to take advantage of me,” he announces, making to get off Harry’s lap. Harry clutches at his hips and pulls him back in, laughing.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he says. “What do you want, seriously? A kiss.”

Louis licks at his lips, enjoying the way Harry’s eyes track the movement. “Why would you think I want a kiss from you?” he demands.

Harry groans, hands tightening around Louis’ hips. “Lou,” he says, thread of something a little sharp in his voice, “kitten, I - ”

Arousal slithers through Louis’ veins, thick and hot. He cuts Harry off by shoving him down flat against the bed hard, sliding down between his knees on the floor. “Be quiet,” he orders, laying a slightly trembly palm over the bulge in Harry’s jeans. He’s already hard, just from having Louis in his lap. “I want this as my present.”

Harry’s breathing has gone a little wheezy. He makes a sound that can only be taken as an agreement. Louis doesn’t waste any time pulling his cock out of his pants, only barely holding back a gasp as he does so.

It’s _big_. The one thought that’s gotten Louis through these past few months of torture has been directly correlated to the idea that Harry must have a small cock, overcompensating for it every chance he gets. It’s the only explanation for why he was always so bossy, especially to Louis. Louis is used to being the boss around these parts.

He’s already hard, too, going a little drippy at the head, drop sliding slowly down the shaft, mouth watering in its beauty.

Louis surges forwards and takes the head of it into his mouth, eyes slipping closed. It’s been so long since he’s had a cock in his mouth, and he always enjoys it, always likes how it makes him feel. A little slutty, maybe, but so powerful, so wanted.

Harry’s hands bury themselves in Louis’ hair. Louis likes that, too, likes to be helped to take more, likes when a guy pushes him around a little.

Except Harry’s not pushing him down, he’s pulling Louis up. His eyes are wild, slightest sheen of sweat glistening on his throat as he demands, “ _What are you doing_.”

It doesn’t sound like a question. Between Louis’ thighs, his own cock aches, needy and longing. Wanting to be touched, stroked.

“You promised me a treat,” Louis repeats, tongue gone thick in his mouth. He wants, wants so badly he can barely even think straight.

Harry’s laugh is jagged, sharp around the edges. He keeps his hands well away from Louis’ body as he replies, “You think I don’t know that I could have had this if I wanted?” he demands. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. Always aching for my attention, sweetheart, I see right through you.”

Louis jerks back so hard he almost tumbles back onto his bum. It feels as though he’s been slapped, hard and jarring, and the flare of pain is enough that he forgets about Harry’s cock still poking up out of his jeans, of his own cock lying thick in his pants.

“Get out,” Louis says, voice trembling. Wants to lift a hand to point to the door but scared of how much it’d be shaking.

Calmly, Harry tucks his cock back into his jeans, zipping it away. “I’m not going to do this with you one time,” he says. “You give this to me, you give it to me _for life_ , you understand? None of this one night stand shit, or me dropping everything and running over here to get you off when you deign to give it to me. You want this, you have to be _mine_ to get it, alright?”

He grabs Louis’ chin in his hand, tips it up so Louis can’t help but look at him. “I don’t share, kitten, so you better be sure this is what you want before you ask for it.”

With that, he stalks out of the room, but not before Louis notices the strain around his eyes, the tiniest little shake in his fingers. It cost him to say no, to say that there are stakes involved for him, and Louis isn’t quite sure what to do with that information.

He’ll figure it out.

 

It takes a little bit over a week, but Louis figures it out. People don’t get to just put their hands all over him and demand that he consent to being theirs for the rest of his life. If he’s going to be anyone’s he’s going to do it on his own terms, at his own pace. This big, stupid, broad shouldered boy of a man with stupid tangly hair that Louis wants to yank a little isn’t going to be the one who decides what their relationship is going to be like, and Louis is determined to prove that.

With that in mind, he heads over to Harry’s flat at a time he knows Harry is going to be in class, having already stolen the spare key he gave to Liam off Liam’s keyring, and lets himself inside quietly. This is the first time he’s been inside Harry’s flat, so he lets himself snoop around noisily, climbing up onto the counters to go through all the cupboards, pulling open drawers and rummaging through them, opening Harry’s laptop and trying to guess his password. He has to give up after a few failed attempts, so he moves on to the bedroom, swinging the door wide open.

The bed is unmade, dark sheets tangled, pillows bunched up at the head, phone charger lying forgotten on the floor next to it. It looks warm, inviting. Cozy. Louis is tempted to curl up and take a nap on it, but he refrains. He has very important work to do here, after all.

He makes a mess of Harry’s closet, humming to himself as he pulls clothes down, examining them critically before discarding them in a heap on the floor, finally picking out a soft, warn hoodie and pulling it over his head. It’s clean, smells like laundry detergent, but there’s an underlying scent on it, one that smells like Harry, even after it’s been washed. Louis pushes the sleeves up to his elbows and wanders over to the dresser next, dumping the contents of the drawers out onto the floor as well. He doesn’t find anything interesting in there, so he moves onto the beside table, folding his legs underneath himself and sitting on the floor.

The table is a lot more interesting than the dresser had been. There’s lube and condoms in it, all of which Louis confiscates, scowling to himself as he shoves the packets into the pocket of the hoodie. Then, buried in the very bottom of the drawer, he finds the most interesting thing yet.

A dildo.

“Huh,” Louis says to himself, examining it. It’s on the small side, clean and well kept. It’s an object he didn’t see coming, that’s for sure. His brow furrows as he thinks about why Harry has it, eventually coming to the decision that it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s Louis’ now.

He pushes himself to his feet, swiping Harry’s entire box of jewelry off the top of the dresser, satisfied with the chaos he’s created. There’s only one thing left to do, and it only takes a few seconds, swiping sharp claws across the lengths of Harry’s pillows before he lets himself out of the flat, congratulating himself on a job well done.

 

Once safely back in his own flat with three locked doors between him and what will no doubt be Harry’s wrath, Louis snaps a photo of himself in the hoodie, captions it with ‘ _fucking hipsters with their stupid clothing_ ’ and posts it on his Instagram.

Not even fifteen minutes later, his phone lights up with a call, caller ID flashing _Gross Dirty Hipster_. Louis stabs at the answer button impatiently, pressing the phone up to his ear and curling up under his blankets on the his bed.

“Kitten,” Harry says very calmly, very deliberately, “Have you been in my flat?”

Tingles spread through Louis’ belly. He hunches down, drawing his knees up to his chest, and responds, “Why the fuck would I have been in your gross dirty hipster flat? No one wants to go to yours, Harry, don’t flatter yourself into thinking - ”

As though he hadn’t even been speaking, Harry cuts him off. “Louis.”

That’s it, just one word said in that same slow, deliberate tone. Just Louis’ name, nothing more.

Louis squirms with the desire to let it all spill out, confess everything. He has to shove his free hand down between his thighs, palm at his cock, before he can respond. “No.”

It’s almost embarrassing, how clearly it’s a lie. Louis’ face flushes, sweat beginning to gather at his temples, underneath his arms. He’s hot but he doesn’t want to take the hoodie off, doesn’t want to unburrow himself from his blankets.

“I see. So the claw marks in my pillows, those aren’t from you?” Harry asks. There’s something like iron in his voice, something unbending, unyielding.

Louis whines into the phone before he can stop himself, flushing even deeper. “I - no. It wasn’t me. You probably got robbed.”

“Oh, I got robbed alright,” Harry mutters to himself, clearing his throat. His voice comes back even firmer than before, all hot metal and unrelenting demand. “Kitten. I’m going to ask you one more time, and you’re going to tell me the truth this time, do you understand? Were you in my flat?”

The flush in Louis’ face has spread down his neck, to his chest. He has to grip at his cock tighter, wants to slip his hand inside his briefs and tug himself off. It probably wouldn’t take much, not right now, but he doesn’t. Because Harry hasn’t said he could. “Yes.”

The word comes out as something that’s barely more than a whisper. On the other end of the line, Harry groans, a sound that’s deep and primal, almost as though he couldn’t stop it from coming out. His breathing has gone just as ragged as Louis’ is, and abruptly, Louis wants to know where he is, what he’s doing. What he’s wearing.

“Okay,” Harry says, voice something that could be described as a rumble. “Alright, sweetheart, thank you for being honest with me.” There’s a second of silence before Harry pulls it together enough to continue, a second of silence that Louis _revels in_. Because Harry being quiet means that this is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting Louis, means that they’re on a level playing field.

“I’m going to go out and buy myself some new pillows,” Harry says. Louis blinks at the unexpectedness of that comment, but before he can think of a way to respond Harry’s continuing, “And the next time you rip them to shreds like that it’s going to be because I’ve got you face down on my bed with my cock in your arse, you understand?”

Louis can only gasp into the phone, squeezing himself again. “Uh-huh.” He can’t manage to form words, can’t manage to give back as good as he’s getting, not right now. Not when his cock is dripping inside his pants, balls full and ready to come, arse depressingly empty. Achingly empty.

Harry clears his throat again, thickness mostly gone but still so deep Louis feels it in his bones. “Louis,” he says firmly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you have to be mine in order for this to happen. I need - ” his voice breaks, just the tiniest bit, just enough for Louis to hear the raw emotion behind it - “I need you to say that this is what you want.”

_You’re what I want_ , Louis thinks dazedly, but he knows that’s not the answer Harry’s looking for right now. Knows it’ll be an acceptable answer later, knows that it’ll be the _right_ answer later, but it’s not right now. Not right now.

It takes a minute to pull himself together enough to come up with the words he wants to say, to clear the arousal dripping through his veins long enough to say them.

“I want to be yours,” he says, fingers still curled around the bulge of his cock in his pants but not squeezing anymore. “I want you to be mine. I don’t want you to share, and I don’t want to share either, and I want you to kiss me and take care of me and swat me on the arse and call me _kitten_. And I want you to throw me around a little and always let me be the one who decides what out relationship is going to be like.”

When Harry’s voice comes back, it’s gone deep again, that molten hot feel of it practically burning through the phone and straight into Louis’ core. “I can do that,” he murmurs. “Gonna have to be a little more compromise than you’re used to, but I can do that.”

Louis’ heart rate just about triples. He squeezes his eyes closed and licks his lips. “Good.”

“Good,” Harry echoes. “How long have you been touching yourself for, kitten?”

The demand of it comes like an electric shock, zinging through Louis’ body. “I’m not,” he denies instantly, even as he squeezes himself again, even though he knows they can both hear the lie in his words.

Harry’s laugh is husky, smokey. “You are,” he says. “I saw that you took all my things from my bedside table.”

His voice isn’t disapproving, just factual. Louis arches up so he can press his face against a cool spot on the sheets, finally giving in to the urge to slip his fingers inside his pants, touch himself skin to skin. “You have a dildo,” he says dumbly, gasping as he squeezes the head of his cock, thighs shifting restlessly as he tries to angle himself right without strangling himself in the hoodie.

It still smells like Harry.

“That I do, baby,” Harry says. “Like to use it on people like you, squirmy little indignant things who need a little coaxing to be quiet.”

Louis’ eyes burn. He strokes himself harder, belly clenching. “Shut up.” Hates the idea of Harry using that stupid thing on anyone else. Hates how turned on he is at the thought of Harry using it on him, all casual possessiveness and broad shoulders as he works it in and out of Louis’ body, opening him up with it for the real thing, until Louis is gasping and pleading and begging.

Louis doesn’t beg.

“No, you’re right,” Harry murmurs. “Haven’t used it on anyone. Straight out of the package, that little toy. Was saving it for someone special. Someone like you.”

Christ, Louis wants to come. He’s making a mess of his briefs, slippery and wet at the front, and all he wants right now is Harry’s hands all over him, Harry’s body pinning him down to the bed, Harry’s mouth on his kissing him deeply as Louis comes all over both of them. Harry’s cock inside of him, making him scream and writhe and thrash until Harry’s forced to hold him still, forced to pin him in place so he can fuck him deeper and deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside of him every time until Louis comes without a hand on his cock, until Louis is sore and spent and exhausted. Until Harry pulls out and rolls him over onto belly to keep fucking him, grinding him into the mattress until Louis starts to get hard again.

“You listening, baby?” Harry’s voice cuts through his thoughts, drawing him back to the present.

“Listening,” Louis rasps back, throat dry and tight from how much he wants to come. From how close he is to coming.

“Gonna give you two options, kitten, and you’re gonna tell me which one you want more, alright?” Harry asks. Louis makes a short, breathless noise in return, all he can manage at the moment. “I’m gonna be at your flat in fifteen minutes, and you can either get that dildo all nick and slick and put it up inside of yourself, come all nice and full like that, or you can get yourself off without anything up your arse and let me do it when I get there. Which one are you gonna pick?”

Louis whines again, arching up into his fist helplessly. “I - I dunno.”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Harry murmurs. “Gonna be my pretty little kitty no matter what you choose, sweetheart. You want me to tell you about what I’m going to do to you when I get there?”

_Yes_. He must have said it out loud, because Harry continues, “Gonna fuck you with the dildo either way, baby. Gonna get you all nice and slick and open for me no matter what you choose, but I’m not gonna fuck you. Gonna get you off on the dildo one more time and then I’m gonna bundle you up and take you back to mine so I’ll be the only one who hears you screaming for me, kitten. Don’t want anyone else hearing you.”

Louis squeezes his eyes closed, making a short, pained noise, struggling not to come. “So what’s the difference, then?” he manages, slowing his strokes but not stopping them. Can’t stop touching himself, not with Harry’s voice dirty and powerful in his ear like this.

“The difference is that if you get yourself off with just your hand I’m gonna finger you until you come,” Harry says simply. “Before I get that sweet little dildo into you I’m gonna make you come on my fingers, and then I’m gonna make you come again on the dildo before I pack you up and take you home.”

Put like that, there’s a clear choice. Louis can’t hide the shake in his voice as he replies, “Gonna - gonna come with my hand.”

“Such a sweet little kitty,” Harry murmurs. “So good for me, baby, gonna let me make you come three times, aren’t you? Gonna hurt you a little, isn’t it, coming that much? But it doesn’t matter, all you want is to be good for me, let me take care of you. Just wanna be a sweet little kitty for me and no one else.”

Just like that, Louis is coming, talked into it by Harry’s voice in his ear, whispering dirty things to him, all the things he’s going to do once he gets here. All the things he’s going to do for the rest of his life, all the ways Louis is going to be his.

“Good boy,” Harry’s crooning, soft nonsense words as Louis comes and comes and comes, lips parted and drenching the inside of his pants. His muscles feel shaky and jittery as he finishes, fingers slipping off his cock and out of his briefs. They’re wet with come, strands of it sticking to his skin, but Louis can’t even bring himself to care. He wants to be kissed right now, desperately, wants Harry to take care of him and clean him up and just kiss him until his mouth is sore and swollen, lace their fingers together above Louis’ head and keep him in the bed until morning. Wants Harry to strip him out of this hoodie and cover him with his body instead, keep him warm like he’s a blanket. Wants Harry to love him in a way no one else is capable of, thoroughly and unshakingly.

Thinks they’re probably already well on their way to that.

“How much longer?” Louis mumbles into the phone, turning onto his side and curling up.

“Five minutes,” Harry promises, drawl of his voice still deep and hot in a way that sinks into Louis’ skin.

“Make it three and I’ll let you have your jewelry back,” Louis says, and hangs up on Harry’s answering laughter.

His belly is still tingling.

 

It takes ten minutes. It takes ten minutes for Harry to get there, and Louis spends the entirety of that ten minutes fighting sleep, fingertips still tucked into the waist of his sweats. If he wasn’t riding a post-orgasm high he might be nervous - Louis doesn’t know that he’s ever been as attracted to anyone as he is Harry, and Harry’s shaping up to be everything Louis wants in a sexual partner. It’s a little intimidating, how good Harry seems to be at handling him.

Louis isn’t even really thinking about any of those things. No, he’s mostly thinking about Harry’s mouth. Daydreaming about it, really. About what it’ll be like when they kiss. It’ll be their first kiss, the first time their mouths have ever touched, and Louis sucks on his own bottom lip as he thinks about it.

Thinks Harry will probably kiss commandingly, gentle but firm at the same time. Thinks he’ll probably put a hand on the nape of Louis’ neck and hold him still for it, use the other one to angle Louis’ face exactly right. Thinks he’ll make Louis ache for more with every passing second.

Harry doesn’t make a lot of noise when he enters the room. There’s no slamming of doors, no loud, heavy breathing. Just the soft pad of footsteps across the floor, then the sound of Harry dropping to his knees beside the bed. “Lou,” he says raggedly, pulling the covers down to Louis’ shoulders. “Baby, I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”

It’s like he’s read Louis’ mind. Louis wets his lips, says, “Please.” Wants it so badly he can already taste it.

“’kay,” Harry murmurs, and then they are. Kissing. For the first time.

It’s - it’s _everything_. Louis has never been kissed like this in his entire life, so desperately, all consuming, like he’s everything that matters to someone. Like there’s nothing Harry wants more than to be kissing Louis right now. Just lips at first, smooth and soft, plush. It quickly turns into him sucking Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on tender flesh, making it sting a little. The first brush of Harry’s tongue against his has Louis whimpering, hands scrabbling to find purchase against Harry’s shoulders, and all of a sudden it doesn’t seem right that Harry’s kneeling on the ground next to the bed when he could be covering Louis’ body with his own.

Louis is going to make that happen. He really, really intends to make that happen, except before he can move to pull Harry up onto the bed with him Harry’s hands are slipping up the sides of his head, into his hair, and then - 

Then Harry’s thumb brushes the tip of Louis’ ear. His tongue is slick against Louis’ and his thumb is touching Louis’ ear.

There’s really nothing to be done for the way Louis immediately squirms, making a sound high in the back of his throat, spots dancing behind his closed eyelids.

Harry pauses. “Really?” he asks eventually, voice thick and gritty with desire. Desire Louis has caused. “Thought that one was a myth.”

For some reason, it makes Louis laugh. Twenty minutes ago he’d been curled up on his bed with his hand shoved down his pants, listening while this guy took him apart with a few careful words, and now, here, this same guy can’t keep it together long enough to make good on his threats.

Louis never thought sex with Harry would include laughter. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it, even before the whole bag-stealing incident - Harry’s got those broad shoulders and good hair, and he’s always been intense around Louis, and if Louis has a type it’s definitely that - but he never quite pictured it like this. 

Always pictured it with less clothing between them, too.

“It is,” Louis says, blinking his eyes open slowly. “It’s not - it’s a myth.”

Doesn’t know why he’s lying, only that it seems like the right thing to do.

Harry’s eyes get that look in them again, that one that’s burning hot with intent, and slowly, deliberately, he strokes his thumb over Louis’ ear again. Louis tries not to react, he really does, but his body betrays him, all of him going limp and easy, with one notable exception. 

“Really?” Harry asks, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip again. “So if I just kept doing this,” strokes Louis’ ear again, so soft it barely even counts as a touch, “nothing would happen? You’d be fine?”

Louis swallows. His cock twitches, still wet with his own come. “I - ”

“Don’t lie to me, kitten,” Harry murmurs, rubbing the skin behind Louis’ ear a little harder. “Thought we got past that already.”

Louis doesn’t - he doesn’t know what to do. On one hand he wants to lie again, see how far he can push Harry before he’ll _make_ Louis tell him the truth, but on the other hand. On the other hand, Harry had said _good boy_ earlier and Louis wants to be that. For him. For Harry.

_Good boy_.

“Tell you what,” Harry says when Louis doesn’t respond, thumb lingering on his ear but not stroking again, not moving, “if you tell me the truth I’ll take my hoodie off you.”

The casual way he says it, _my hoodie_ , sends a shiver through Louis’ spine. It is his hoodie, it’s true, but there’s something about the way he says it, something that sounds more like he’s laying ownership to Louis than he is the hoodie. And Louis - doesn’t mind. Wants to be Harry’s. 

“It’s good,” Louis says eventually, rolling onto his back. “Is that what you want me to say? That I like it when people touch my ears?”

“No,” Harry says, leaning over Louis on the bed, still half on the floor, elbows braced on either side of Louis’ head, “I want you to say that you like it when _I_ touch your ears.”

That hot look in his eyes hasn’t faded, and it seems like he’s half a second away from snapping and doing _something_ , even if Louis doesn’t know what it is, like he’s half a second away from allowing Louis to provoke him into doing something he hadn’t planned on.

Louis tucks that information away for later, when he has a clearer head and can decide what to do with it.

“When you touch my ears I wanna go arse up for you and let you do whatever you want to me,” Louis says, fingers shifting restlessly on the sheets as he stares up at Harry’s face.

Harry does snap. Whether it’s the type of snapping that would have happened if Louis hadn’t admitted to it there’s no way of telling, but Harry moves fast, faster than Louis expected, stripping him out of his hoodie, then his shirt, then his trackies and his pants, leaving him naked and exposed to the cool air of the room.

For a minute, all Harry does is stare. Eyes rake over every inch of Louis’ body greedily, prickling and hot, like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Harry,” Louis says, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, trying not to squirm too obviously. “I want - ”

Harry blinks, dragging his gaze back up to Louis’ face. “You wanna come, kitty?” he asks softly, reaching out and dragging his knuckles across the flat of Louis’ belly. “Gonna come so sweet and pretty for me, lemme see it?”

_Yes_. That’s what Louis wants. The answer must be written all over Louis’ face because he doesn’t even have to say it before Harry’s continuing, “Promised you something, though. You remember?”

Oh fuck, does Louis ever remember. He nods dumbly, reaching up to catch Harry’s hand with his own, pulls it down to his chest. “Please,” he whispers.

“Christ,” Harry says, bending his head like he can’t help but kiss Louis’ mouth again, keeping it short and sweet this time. “Baby, I - you make me feel so obsessive, sometimes, like I’ll never be able to get enough of you no matter what I do, and I know that’s gotta be a little overwhelming for you - ”

“If I want you to stop,” Louis interrupts him, wrapping his free hand around Harry’s elbow and tugging it gently out from underneath him, “I’ll tell you to stop.”

There’s no doubt in Louis’ mind that if he tells Harry to stop Harry would. He may be bigger than Louis and want to make Louis bend for him, but all Louis has to do is say the word and Harry would stop. Louis is sure of it.

Harry’s expression is this soul-crushing mix between rapt and awestruck, framing Louis’ jaw with his hands. There’s a thought stuck on his face, begging to be said, but he doesn’t say it. Clears his throat a little and brushes Louis’ mouth with his own again, soft and short. “Okay,” he says eventually, pulling back. “Never wanna make you a promise I can’t keep, so tell me where your lube is, kitty.”

Louis flings a hand out towards the bedside table, breathless again just from a few words. _Gonna finger you until you come_ echoes through his head, and he wants that. Wants Harry to follow through on every promise he’ll ever make, the sex ones and the _for life_ ones equally.

“Wait,” Louis says abruptly, pressing his thighs together. “Take off your clothes.” Wants naked skin against naked skin, the press of Harry’s cock against him as he fingers Louis with hands that are entirely too big.

“Said I was gonna take you back to mine once I was done with you,” Harry answers, tucking the lube against Louis’ hip for safe keeping. “Gonna be easier to do that if I’ve got my clothes on.”

That one wasn’t a promise. “You trying to say that you can’t take care of me here?” Louis demands, any heat in his voice a product of his arousal rather than indignation.

Harry laughs, the sound of it deep and smoky, thrilling. “No,” he says easily, happily. “Can take care of you anywhere, kitty, let you curl up in the sun and pet your belly.”

Louis would like to say that it doesn’t sound nice, but the fact of the matter is that it does sound nice. So fucking nice. He’s distracted from thoughts of warm milk on a cold day by Harry stripping his shirt over his head, doing it quickly and efficiently before moving onto the rest of his clothes, leaving him naked so fast Louis barely has time to ogle him before he’s reaching for the lube again, back on top of Louis’ body.

“Sweet little kitty,” Harry murmurs, slick fingers wrapping themselves around Louis’ cock and giving him a slow, thorough stroke. “Wanna be all mine for the rest of your life, don’t you.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, stroking Louis’ cock again one more time, twice, kissing Louis as he does it, before trailing his fingers down the inside of Louis’ thigh and around to his arse.

He doesn’t waste any time, rubbing big fingers along the crease of Louis’ cheeks, parting them gently. Louis sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes fluttering closed. Arches up into the touch, pulse fluttering in his throat from how much he wants it, how much he wants Harry’s fingers inside of him.

Then they are. Or one is, at least, pressing in big and inescapable, filling Louis up even though it’s only one. Louis’ breath shudders out of him, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, and all he wants, all he wants - 

_Fuck_. All he wants is that firm, maddening pressure against his prostate, exactly like how Harry’s doing it right now.

“Yeah,” Harry’s saying, whispering the words against the tip of Louis’ ear, adding to the shivers running through his spine, “Knew you’d react like this, baby, so sweet and responsive. Wanna be all full of me, don’t you.”

It’s not a question. Louis whimpers out a, “Yeah, yes, Harry, wanna,” anyway. He wants Harry to know, wants Harry to be as turned on as Louis is right now, as impossible as that feels.

The nudge of Harry’s cock against Louis’ thigh is thick and mouth-watering. For a second, Louis is transported back to that three seconds of having Harry’s cock in his mouth, filling him up. He wants that again, sometime in the very near future, but for now he settles for reaching a hand down to touch it instead, wraps his fingers around the shaft.

Harry swears, biting the words into Louis’ throat, pressing a second finger against Louis’ stretched rim until it slips inside, making room for itself beside the first. The stretch is immediate, burns so fucking good, and Louis almost comes. Wants to come.

“Gonna come for me now, kitty?” Harry asks, sucking the lobe of Louis’ ear between his teeth and biting down gently, nudging his fingers right up against Louis’ prostate, and suddenly Louis _is_ coming. Can’t hold back the force of his orgasm any more, whining out words that don’t make any sense and spurting all over their bellies, thighs trembling from how good it feels.

Louis hasn’t even recovered from it, still breathing heavily, shakily, when Harry says, “That’s one.”

His fingers tighten around Harry’s cock unconsciously. He hadn’t even remembered that he was touching it, that’s how good Harry’s fingers feel inside of him, filling him up, making him whole.

_That’s one_.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Harry says, fingers stilling inside Louis’ body, “Are you ready for the second one?”

Louis’ cock is still half hard between their bodies. It gives a feeble twitch at Harry’s words, trying to plump up again and mostly failing. He’s not ready, not even close, feels overwhelmed and sensitive and wants to snog some more, wants Harry to pet him and call him _kitty_ and focus his unwavering attention on him.

“Yes,” he says anyway, despite all of that or because of it, and just like that Harry’s fingers are slipping out of his hole, leaving him empty and open. Louis’ grip slips off Harry’s cock, fingers weak, and watches Harry produce the dildo out of thin air. It’s almost like a magic trick, except with less rabbits and more sex toys.

Good. Louis much prefers mice to rabbits anyway.

“You remember what I said I was going to do with this?” Harry asks, touching the dildo casually, possessively. Almost as possessively as he’s touching Louis’ thigh, holding him as though he already knows that Louis is his.

Licking his bottom lip, Louis manages, “Use it on someone who needs a little coaxing to be quiet.”

Immediately, Harry’s caress turns into a pinch. “No,” he says, letting the pinch linger long enough for the sting to start spreading. Louis gasps, tries to squirm away from the ache. Harry only holds him harder. “Promised to make you come with this before I take you home with me. You wanna know why?”

Louis nods, blinking. He wants to know. Maybe even needs to know, needs the reassurance. He knows he can be - a lot to handle, and that’s not for everyone. He is who he is and that’s not going to change, and if Harry can’t take that he wants to know now.

“Stop that,” Harry says firmly, pressing his knuckles against Louis’ belly. “The first time I saw you, you took my breath away, and it’s only gotten worse since then. I want to make you come and I want to put you in my bed and never let you leave, and I want to do all of that because the way I feel about you is - ” He pauses for a breath, eyes searching Louis’. “The way I feel about you I’ve never felt about anyone else before.”

Suddenly, Louis’ cock is fully hard again. He’s turned on again, wants to be fucked pretty desperately. Wants to be taken care of by this stupid broad-shouldered hipster because, as it turns out, he’s Louis’ stupid broad-shouldered hipster. No one else’s.

“You’re a bloody sap,” he murmurs, shifting his knee to give Harry more space between his thighs. Warmth is blooming in his chest, bright and overwhelming. “Now fuck me.”

Harry’s hand leaves his belly, slicks up the dildo. It’s quick and efficient, speaks to having practice, and for a second Louis can’t stop picturing it, picturing Harry lying on his bed, arching up into his fist, sweat gleaming on his throat, his abs. Fucking his fist and imagining it’s someone else’s, imagining it’s Louis’, imagining it’s Louis’ mouth, his arse.

“Alright, kitty,” Harry says. There’s a laugh in his voice, one that doesn’t fade even as the tip of the dildo nudges against Louis’ hole. “You want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you.”

Then he pushes the dildo inside, not going fast or slow, somewhere in between, and it’s not even that big, but Louis’ breath still punches out of him. “Fuck,” he says, dazed, reaching up to pull Harry’s head down towards his. Thinks they need to be kissing so he won’t be able to fall apart so obviously. Harry takes the hint for what it is, kissing back with intensity, ferocity, claiming Louis’ mouth like he has the rights to it and never intends to give them up.

Louis’ cock throbs. The dildo is fully inside of him now, filling him up, and it still doesn’t feel that big - he’s got bigger ones of his own hiding in his drawer - but it feels right. Like it’ll be enough to tide him over until Harry decides to give him the real thing instead.

“How’s that, baby,” Harry asks, voice deep and low. Rocks the dildo a bit, not quite pulling it out. Leaves it deep and filling.

“S’good,” Louis says, arching up, sending his cock skidding along Harry’s belly. It’s so fucking good, arse full and a warm, heavy body on top of him, pinning him down, forcing him to be still and just _take_ it.

And Harry gives it, fucking Louis with the dildo for long, endless moments, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his entire body, until every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire, broken and mended in the same breath. It’s so good, too good, blunt pressure against his prostate, and Louis is ready to come again before he even knows it.

Harry’s paying attention, must be. His free hand leaves Louis’ thigh, two fingers stroking his cock slowly, much slower than the pace he’s thrusting the dildo at. “Come for me, sweetheart,” Harry says, breathing the words against Louis’ ear, lips wet and soft.

Like his body has been waiting for Harry’s permission, Louis does. Comes all over himself, soaking them from hips to nipples for the second time. It feels like every ounce of liquid in his body goes into it, orgasm wracking all of his senses.

By the time he’s capable of paying any amount of attention to anything other than his own body, Harry’s gone back to kissing Louis’ mostly lax mouth, tender and sweet now. Gentle kisses, soft kisses that are made for lovers. Because that’s what they are now - they’re lovers.

“You want me to do something,” Louis asks eventually. His voice comes out thready and weak despite his best efforts. Finds he doesn’t really mind.

“Mm,” Harry murmurs, scraping his teeth against the skin behind Louis’ ear. His fingers twitch, tremble. “As appealing as that sounds, it’s already taken care of.”

Louis blinks slowly, tries to look down between their bodies. He can’t really see anything, but a second later it turns out that doesn’t matter. He can feel it, feel the wetness dripping off his balls, between his cheeks, like Harry was aiming for his arse and just missed a little. “Came on me,” he says weakly, trying to wiggle his toes, make sure he can still feel them.

Turns out he can.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Pretty little kitty like you, how could I not.”

Pleased, Louis squirms a little. His limbs are going numb from Harry’s weight on top of them, and now that he’s trapped Harry into being in a relationship he’s going to start taking charge. “You’re fucking heavy, get offa me.”

Groaning, Harry tugs the dildo out of Louis’ hole carefully, letting it fall to the ground before rolling onto the empty space on the bed. Louis doesn’t waste any time slinging a leg over Harry’s and curling up against his side, head on Harry’s chest. It’s a comfortable silence, easy. Louis is almost asleep when Harry breaks it.

“Can I have my things back now?”

“No.” Louis doesn’t plan on ever giving him his things back, because now - now they belong to Louis, just like Harry does. And he’s pretty sure Harry knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://crazyupsetter.tumblr.com/)


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